The room was crowded, naturally, and the proctors seemed to be few. The small group that left had probably been two groups from two separate proctors. Not long after entering, he’d spotted a proctor off to the right leaning against the wall. He seemed to be in his late forties, and had a scar running down the right side of his face. A fiery tempest of hair sat atop his head and around his mouth. As Rashim approached the man he smiled broadly and laughed. 

“Well well, one of Lord Lystraan’s boys.” The man said in a boisterous and jovial voice. Evergreen eyes narrowed, he hoped he hadn’t chosen wrong. He did not want a free pass just because of his last name. He wanted to be on this expedition because he deserved it, which he did. 

“Yes Sir, I am Rashim Lystraan, the middle child,” he said with a light bow of his head. It was just enough to be respectable to someone who may know more than him in martial arts. He was of higher status than most of those in this city, and Father said that he was supposed to reflect that in the way he greeted people.
“And I’m Daryoon,” the voice of that black wolf that seemed to be following him around. 

“I am Arc, I suppose I’ll be your martial proctor,” the man said while turning around and picking up a claymore from the table behind him. When he turned back around he pointed to Rashim, “You first Lystraan. Score a point on me with your blade, you must do it without me scoring three points, and you must manage to not actually inflict any damage to me by accident with your blade. That should be easy for you, no?”

“Of course,” Rashim said while pulling his gleaming steel [url=http://www.wulflund.com/img/goods/en/medium/hand-and-a-half-sword---nobleman_2.jpg ]‘hand and a half sword’[/url] from his waist and taking the appropriate stance. 

The man was on him in an instant, claymore flashing with speed and precision bought with years of hard fought use. Rashim’s blade met the Fire haired proctor’s and was forced down and back. Barely his Sword deflected the massive thing from biting into his shoulder. Spinning lightly on his feet, the blonde moved back around to swing at the man, but the claymore was there to meet his own sword, deflecting it with ease.

He leapt nimbly out of the way and watched as his opponent lazily took up a new position. “You’ll have to put more effort into it than that little lordling.” The man tossed an insult, but Rashim brushed it off for what it was. In ‘duels’ like these the fight could also move into the verbal sphere. It was a ploy to anger him and throw him off guard, so paying it no heed, he dashed in at full speed, ducked nimbly under the man’s quick swing. The room shook violently, unsettling the man’s balance, the blonde took the odd chance presented to him and stuck the point of his blade intot he man’s back lightly, no harm done… so long as he didn’t decided to fall backwards.

How anti-climactic. He’d been either allowed to win, or the man who seemed more proficient with his weapon had made a simple mistake. He was going to aim for the original, but the odd shaking and loud crash had perhaps thrown the man for a loop. It was odd, what could have caused such a thing…

“hmm, you pass. Much as I hate to admit it already,” the fire haired man stated before turning back to his desk and pulling a scroll from it. “Take this to the central office. They’ll add you to the roster of participants in the Expeditions. From there, you’ll have to form your own group, or join one already in the making. They will explain the rules and regulations for it. Now go on, I’ve got others to test.”

The man didn’t seem happy, but Rashim was fighting back the butterfly’s in his stomach, he’d passed. Sure, it was inevitable, but still he had passed. Was he not allowed to be happy for such a thing? “Of course,” he said with a light nod of his head after all but snatching the paper from the outstretched hand.